Cereal
by Chellero
Summary: Three times Carter realizes just how important Reese is to her.


**A/N: I blame Caviezel and his perpetual Carter/Reese shipping for this one.**

It was 7am and Reese was in the mood as he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was in the dead of winter, but the sun shone brightly through the blinds. He yawned once and stretched his long body, his back arching from the mattress slightly as he got the kinks out. Turning to his right, he looked at the mound underneath the covers next to him and inched his way over to her. Carter liked to sleep with a pillow over her head—to drown out any sounds at night and to shield her eyes from the sun in the morning—so he lifted it, tossing it halfway down the bed before spooning her and nuzzling her neck.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm." A long-winded groan escaped her, making her entire body vibrate against his. And it wasn't the kind of groan he was hoping for. She tried to scoot away from him and he half-heartedly chased her, slipping his hand underneath her flannel pajama top, his touch feather light on her stomach as his nuzzles turned into kisses.

"Mmmmmm." It was a short, whiny groan this time.

His hand reached her breast and he grazed his fingers back and forth over her nipple. Since she couldn't scoot away much further without falling out of the bed, she groaned once more, irritation in the sound this time. "John, stop," came the next audible sound, her voice drenched with sleep. Expecting that, he did as she asked, sliding his arms from around her and falling back onto his back. He kept his sigh to himself, turning his head to look at her just as she slipped the pillow from underneath her head and clamped it over her head instead.

He couldn't help but smile as he shook his head. Carter didn't do morning sex. Hell, she didn't do mornings. But since he was a glutton for her special kind of punishment—and hard-headed—he couldn't help but try. Climbing out of bed, he padded out of her bedroom and down the stairs into the empty kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. Taylor was spending the weekend with his father and, on those occasions, Carter didn't mind his sleeping over.

Yawning and scratching, he walked over to the bay window behind the kitchen table, the sun beckoning him. He opened the blinds, letting the rays barge in, and stood quietly looking while the sound and smell of coffee brewing filled his nose and ears. He watched as one of Carter's neighbors caught his attention. It was a man and a woman, young, bundled up in heavy winter coats and hats, trying to pile their children into their minivan. Reese smiled. They got the infant's car seat in but their toddler was running around, playing in the snow, creating general havoc.

He watched them until the van pulled out of the driveway, his eyes shifting to the rest of the neighborhood that he could see from his vantage point as he got lost in thought.

"Morning."

Reese turned to her briefly, not knowing how long he'd been standing at the window. The coffee had finished brewing and he hadn't noticed. "Morning." He turned back to the window.

Carter slipped her hand under the waistband of her flannel pants and scratched her butt cheek while she yawned, squinting against the bright ass sun reflecting off the white snow he'd let into her kitchen.

"You're up early."

Carter walked over to the refrigerator. "Well, somebody woke me up."

"Thought you would go back to sleep."

"I had to use the bathroom." She scratched her neck while she looked in the refrigerator. "What do you want to do for breakfast?" She reached for the egg carton and frowned at how light it felt. She opened it. Only one egg. "Not enough eggs." She set the carton back down. "Cereal it is, I guess. It's too cold to go out." Closing the door, she looked up at the cereal offerings on top of the refrigerator. "Unless you want oatmeal. I might have some Cream of Wheat..."

"What if we got married?"

Carter scratched and yawned again as she turned to him, still squinting from sun and sleep. "What?"

"If I asked, what would you say?"

"It's too early for this, isn't it?"

He finally turned away from the window and looked at her. She still looked half asleep and, frankly, a little rough, but it was always a precious sight to him. He shrugged. "Simple yes or no."

"No. It is not."

He stared at her and watched as she sighed and relented.

"Are you asking?"

He moved to sit down at the table. "Just curious."

"Is that even possible? You're a ghost remember?"

"Finch," he replied simply.

She sighed again. "You want me to answer honestly?" She pulled out a chair and sat.

"You can tell me anything." He watched as she gathered her thoughts.

"I don't know if I'd want to get married again. I used to, but time went by... I'm used to not running things by another person before I do 'em, you know? I like my independence."

He nodded slowly, considering her words. He could understand that. He had flown solo for a while now, too.

She got up, walked over to the cabinets, and pulled out two bowls, effectively ending the discussion. "What kind of cereal do you want?"

Letting the issue drop, Reese rose and pulled down a box of cereal of his choosing.

* * *

Carter woke up early, turning her phone's alarm clock off and cursing the inventors of morning. It was thirty minutes before the time she usually woke up, but it had snowed last night and she was determined to catch whoever it was in the act.

It had snowed heavily three times since the start of winter, and every morning after each snow episode, she'd walked out to find her car completely cleared of snow and ice. She'd asked John about it, assuming it was him, but he'd asked her if she had a secret admirer and fed her some line about his needing to nip it in the bud because she was already admired plenty by him. It wasn't an answer and she wasn't going to let it go.

She heard the telltale sound of a scraper being used outside her house and dragged herself out of bed. She couldn't see the front of her house from the bedroom window, so she slipped on her snow boots, headed down the stairs, and pulled her coat on over her pajamas. Peeking out the front window over the couch, she saw who it was and shook her head.

That dear, sweet man.

It was strange thinking about him that way, because he was John, but it was true.

She opened the front door and trudged carefully down the steps, hands in her coat pockets and face grimacing as she braved the elements. The wind had a serious bite to it this morning and it was cold as hell.

He stopped when he noticed her, nose red and unprotected, unlike his gloved hands and skull capped head. Then, probably wanting to get the hell out of the cold, he kept going.

She headed over to him as fast as she could in five inches of fresh snow. "I knew it was you!" She stopped when she reached his side and softened her tone. "John? You don't have to do this. I can take care of it." She envied the parking garage he had, but he was foolishly not taking advantage of the fact that he didn't have to do this god awful winter chore.

"You have me now. You're not doing this when I can. Now, go back inside. It's cold. You're defeating the purpose."

She stood there shivering and watching him. Not knowing what to say. She wanted to argue with him, but it was cold. She wanted to argue with him, but he was resolute. She wanted to argue with him, but she was touched. She wanted to argue with him, but she wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze him to death.

"Go inside, Carter. It's cold and you don't have anything on your head."

"Can I say 'thank you'?" It didn't seem like enough, but her options were few right now.

"You're welcome, Joss. Go inside."

Reluctantly, she did. Coat and boots off, she watched him through the window until he finished, got into his car, and left to start his day.

* * *

"John, are you busy?" Carter couldn't believe she was actually sitting in her running car in her own driveway doing this. She wasn't sure she could be any more embarrassed, but she was desperate. It took him a second to respond, and she wondered if his answer was a lie because he had detected the slight panic in her voice.

"No. What's wrong?"

"I can't go in my house. I saw a rat in the kitchen and I left. I can deal with spiders, worms, snakes, even roaches. But I cannot deal with mice or rats, John." She hoped he wouldn't make her ask. This was humiliating enough.

"Where are you?"

She knew he wanted to laugh at her, and she deserved it, but he did a good job of hiding it. "Sitting in my car. Taylor's got drama so he's still at school."

"Okay, I'll be there."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Thanks."

She sat there for a full forty-five minutes, feeling stupider by the minute, before John pulled into her driveway behind her car. He had a couple of bags and drinks in his hands when he got out. She'd forgotten she was hungry, embarrassment that she'd had to call a man to come kill a rat for her superseding all other urges.

She watched him walk to the passenger side of her car and get in. He handed her one of the bags.

"Figured you were trying to fix something to eat when you saw it, so I brought something for you, and for Taylor when he gets home."

She thought it once again. How dear and thoughtful and sweet this man was. "Thank you. And _thank you._ Please tell me you weren't busy."

He shrugged. "I got Shaw to cover me. You saw it in the kitchen?"

"Yeah." She eyed the other bag and he held it up.

"Traps in case I don't find it."

 _Oh, please let him find it so I can go back into my own damn house_. "I know you want to laugh at me."

"I got it all out on the way over," he deadpanned.

She tried to contain her smile but couldn't. "I hate you."

He smiled, showing teeth, and opened the door to get out.

Thirty minutes later, after she had eaten and gotten bored, she watched him come out empty-handed. _Damn._ She rolled down her window as he approached the driver's side.

"Couldn't find it. Laid the traps." His breath condensed in the frigid air.

She sighed, frowning in completely selfish disappointment. "You looked everywhere?" It was a dumb question, but she wanted that thing out of her house.

He nodded. "Could've gone anywhere."

"Uuuugh. Okay. Thanks, John. Seriously. Rodents. I just... " She shuddered.

He smiled. "Anytime." He nodded toward the house. "Want me to go get some things for you and Taylor? You can stay with me tonight. I'll check the traps tomorrow."

She grabbed her phone and started texting. "Yeah, I'll go in and get it. Taylor might want to stay with his dad, or we'll go to my mom's. Just stay next to me." She reached for the door handle and he stepped back so she could get out. She dropped her phone in her pocket and gave him a dirty look when she caught him trying not to laugh. She grabbed his arm and they walked toward the front door. "I'm serious. Don't leave me alone in there."

"Now, you know I'll never leave you alone."

She looked up at him, wondering how she had gone about her life without him in it. He tugged her close for a brief moment and she knew it would not work without him.

They climbed the steps and reached the door.

"Ready?"

She squeezed his arm tighter. "No, but I have you."

"Always. Let's go."

* * *

She had never seen John sick. And he was _really_ sick. Smartassery gone. Smirk gone. Energy gone. He looked like hell and sounded worse. She didn't think anything could put him down, but she was wrong. He was down. And she hated seeing it almost as much as she hated seeing Taylor sick. A weak John knocked her off-kilter, and reminded her he was getting older and would probably be forced to start slowing down soon.

She'd taken care of him as best she could while working her job, her side vigilante gig, and being a mom to a busy teenager. Soup, helping him wipe down, temperature checks, making sure he took the antibiotics Shaw got for him. She'd done it all until now, two days later, as she lay in her own bed sick as a dog, too.

She felt like death and still couldn't believe she was sick. She never got sick. It hurt to move, it hurt to talk. She felt so sick she couldn't even muster up the strength to call the doctor and set up an appointment. Finch, bless his obnoxiously nosey heart, had overheard her barely intelligible phone call to an equally barely intelligible John apologizing for being unable to see about him today, and had set up an appointment for her later in the afternoon with the promise of a car being sent for her to take her there and back. Taylor, bless his beautiful heart, too, hadn't wanted to leave her for school, but she promised him she'd be fine and made him go. Just like she wasn't used to seeing John down and out, Taylor wasn't used to seeing his mom that way either.

She groaned and struggled to lift her head from the pillow when she thought she heard something downstairs. Listening as carefully as she could with her head pounding and her ears ringing, she didn't hear it again and laid her head back down.

She lifted it again when she heard her ajar door being opened. The downright ugly look on her face wasn't just because she felt like shit. What was John doing here?

She tried to speak past the phlegm in her throat. "What are you doing here?" She was too weak to throttle him so she tried to voice her displeasure.

His gravelly voice responded. "You sounded terrible."

She hated him so much. She couldn't believe he'd dragged himself here just to see about her. How could a former assassin be so damn sweet? "Well so do you," she eked out. "You shouldn't be out in this weather."

He stripped out of his coat and flopped on his stomach onto her bed, unmoving, legs hanging off the side. He stayed, trying to regather some of the strength he'd lost getting to her.

She laid her head back down and looked at him and thought back to their conversation that cold, cereal breakfast morning in January. "Okay?"

He finally moved, reaching his hands down to slip his shoes off. He dragged his body onto the bed fully until he was next to her. She was facing him and he planted a kiss on her forehead before weakly throwing his arm around her. She snuggled in, tucking her head beneath his.

They lay there, miserable but together.

She didn't feel any better physically, but her heart swelled. "John?"

"Mmm?"

"Let's get married."

"Mmm?"

"If this flu doesn't kill us, will you marry me?" She waited several seconds for his answer. She wondered if he'd heard her.

"Joss?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you delirious?"

"No." She started to laugh and immediately stopped. It hurt.

"You're going to remember this when you feel better?"

"Simple yes or no, John," she groaned. If he didn't answer her so she could stop talking...

"I wish I could answer you properly." He tightened his arm around her as much as he could.

"Jooooooooooohn... "

"Yes, Joss. Of course. Nothing could stop me."

Satisfied with his answer, she smiled in spite of the circumstances. "Get some sleep. I love you."

"I love you, too, Mrs. Reese."

"No."

"Mrs. Carter-Reese?"

"Go to sleep, John."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead again. "Sweet dreams, Angel."

~End

 **As always, thanks for checking this out. I think I'm done spamming stories for now. :)**


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